Make Me Bad: Private Lessons (5 page)

“I hope so.”

“A bunch of us are going to that new restaurant by the opera
house on Friday night.”

I know exactly the restaurant she means.

“When?” I ask.

“Eight-thirty.”

“I’ll try to make it.”

Madison hesitates in the doorway and then nods. She seems to
want to say more, but she doesn’t. Then she’s gone.

I can still smell her perfume in the air, and I sink into a
chair and inhale deeply, willing the erection in my pants to subside. The scent
is intoxicating, yet I know it’s more than the perfume itself.

I shouldn’t be pursuing this
fling
with her. I should
be focusing on my work here in the city, and enjoying living in Paris as a
single man in the prime of his life. Hadn’t I endured enough with Vera? Did I
really want to get caught up in another relationship? Especially a taboo tryst
that will never, could never lead anywhere?

Though, wasn’t Paris the kind of place to do such a thing?
Why can’t I enjoy Madison while we're both in this incredible city? She
certainly seemed to have enjoyed herself last night, and the thought of
educating her sexually is arousing. I'm sure she hasn't had many partners, and
I’m sure I can show her a thing or two.

The thought of getting her naked in my bed, and making her
come again and again is making my dick harder. Would she be as eager of a
student in bed as she seemed to be with music? Maybe she has some kinky fantasy
of sleeping with her teacher—I can definitely work that to my advantage.

I let my mind run over the possibilities as I make my way
back to my apartment.

I'm annoyed when I get back to our flat and find that Cleo
is out and about. I need to do some serious venting about Luc's Dr. Jekyll and
Mr. Hyde persona.

On second thought, maybe it's a good thing Cleo isn't here.
I should really just keep my mouth shut about Luc. He’s said himself that he
could lose his job. I’m pretty sure sleeping with your students will make you a
pariah in any educational circle, no matter what the circumstances. Paris study
abroad or not.

What is it about being in Paris that makes me lose my
inhibitions? Kissing Luc in the music room was incredibly sexy and if he hadn’t
had half a brain to stop us, I probably would have dropped my panties for him
again right there.

Oh my god. I’m turning into a slut. Does this make me a
slut?

And if it does, do I really care?

Luc has an undeniable power over me...I lose control and
forget every good value my parents ever instilled in me. And I would die—just
die—if my parents ever found out what was going on.

I head back into my room and put my guitar down. I open my
laptop, but I’m too keyed up to do anything productive, so I shut it and wander
back into the kitchen. It’s after six. Cleo and I should've already been one
bottle of wine deep by now.

Screw it. I can open one myself and these are desperate
circumstances. I pull a bottle of chilled white out of the fridge, and pour
myself a glass. I take three large sips and instantly feel better. I drain the
glass and pour myself another.

I have schoolwork to do, but I’m certainly not doing it
while drinking, so I pull out a glossy Paris fashion magazine and settle onto
the couch, facing our balcony and panoramic views of the city. The Eiffel Tower
is directly in my line of vision, and I take a moment to realize how truly
lucky I am to be here. How many people can look out their window and see the
Eiffel Tower in all its amazing glory? I really owe my parents for finding this
apartment. I don’t even want to think about how much it cost. I need to find them
some pretty amazing Christmas gifts while in Paris.

It's only the first week in October, and our semester abroad
doesn't end until December fifteenth. Just like in New York, our classes go
until the first week in December, and then we have a week to wrap up and take
finals. I'm so excited to see the city of Paris decorated for the holidays.

My parents offered to come out and spend a long weekend in
the city, but we haven’t talked about it since. It might be nice to see them
for a few days, and it would be fun to go shopping with my mother. We don’t
have a break for Thanksgiving since it isn’t celebrated in Paris, but we've
been told that no one is going to give us a hard time if we take a long weekend
to travel back to the states. I don't feel like doing all that traveling back and
forth to Nashville for just a couple of days. Especially when I'll be going
home for winter break a few short weeks later.

It's not a decision I need to make now, but I am leaning
towards staying in Paris for Thanksgiving. Almost everyone else is staying too.
All of a sudden my thoughts of vacation and travel are interrupted as Cleo
breezes in the front door.

“Hey.” she calls, placing her bag down on the table. She
looks at the open bottle of wine on the counter. “You started without me.”

“You were late.” I say simply.

“I didn’t know I had a curfew.”

“You don’t. I just didn’t realize that you were going out
and I needed the wine STAT.”

Cleo laughs, pours herself a glass and sits next to me.

“So how was your one-on-one lesson with Professor Pascal?”
she asks, her tongue wagging. Clearly, I'm not the only one who finds him sexy.

I shrug, blushing a bit. “It was good. He’s really talented.
But I think he was surprised by the fact that I’m good.” I make a face. I don’t
like to brag about my talent, but I'll admit it had been a little insulting Luc
was
so
surprised when I played for him.

“You’re more than good.” Cleo points out. “You’re freaking
amazing, and he’s an idiot for just realizing that now. I mean, hello, he’s like
this big shot music person, he’s our advisor in Paris, and he’s just
now
realized how good you are?” She shakes her head. “He’s an idiot.”

“A sexy idiot.” I add.

“Oh, definitely a sexy idiot. But he’s certainly is hot and
cold isn’t he? One second he’s having a great time, drinking wine with all of
us and then the next, he’s this stuck up, closed-off
professor
.” She
says, squinting her eyes.

I know what Cleo means, but I wonder if Luc
has
to be
that way. If he has to at least
try
to act like our teacher.

“I agree,” I say slowly, “but I wonder if maybe he shouldn’t
be socializing with us in such a familiar way.”

“Oh please! Do you know how many teachers socialize with
their students? And we’re in Paris! He would be a weirdo
not
to hang out
with us.”

“Maybe.” I really don’t know about these things. I guess I'm
naïve in so many ways. Cleo, who'd grown up outside of DC, always seemed worldlier
than I was.

We shift the conversation away from Luc, which is probably
best as I’m still wrestling with whether or not to tell my best friend that
I’ve slept with him, and if I keep drinking at this pace, the secret's going to
spill eventually. We spend the rest of the evening finishing our bottle of
wine, and eat a late dinner in a cute little restaurant on our street.

The rest of the week flies by and before we know it it’s
Friday night—the night I invited Luc out with us. I haven’t seen or spoken to
him since our private lesson, and neither has anyone else. I guess since our
group is pretty much settled in the city and all of our classes have begun, Luc
doesn’t feel the need to be in touch with us as much. This makes me both sad
and relieved. I actually don’t even have Luc’s phone number, only his email.
But since I’m taking private lessons from him, I make a mental note to get his
cell phone number next time.

“So, I invited Luc tonight,” I say casually, as Cleo and I
grab our purses.

“What? When?”

I try not to act like it’s a big deal. “The other day, after
my lesson. I just thought it would be nice. You know, because he had a good
time going out with us the other night.”

“Oh. Well, he’s been MIA all week, so who knows if he’ll
show. If he does come, I hope he doesn’t have his head up his ass.”

I laugh, but I know she’s right.

We take the Metro to the Opera house and then walk towards
the restaurant. Somehow Ava managed to reserve a table on short notice, and she
waves at us from the back of the restaurant.

“Hey!” she chirps, as we make our way to the table.

Grace is sitting there too, already sipping some wine. “Hope
you don’t mind, we ordered the first bottle.”

“We don’t mind at all. ” I say.

Cleo pours us each two small glasses. More of our group
traipses in, including Philippe, who Cleo has really taken to apparently. I
learned that he’s a French university student living in the city. Leave it to
Cleo to truly immerse herself in the culture.

Once we assume everyone has arrived—except Luc, of course—we
order our food. Being students, we spend more on alcohol than our entrees, and
most of us just order small plates of pasta, or appetizers. The waiter doesn’t
seem surprised.

I’m deep in conversation with Grace about plans after
graduation, when I feel a hand on the small of my back. Startled, I jump and
turn around to see the culprit. Luc is standing behind me, his face an
unreadable mask except for his smoldering eyes.

“Madison.” he says softly.

“Well, hello stranger!” Cleo says loudly, tossing her blonde
hair over her shoulder. “Nice of you to make an appearance.”

Luc gives her a friendly smile. “Well, you can thank Madison
for inviting me.”

“Of course! You’re always welcome.” Cleo says.

Grace and Ava both nod.

Luc slides in next to me, the only vacant spot at the table.

I’m suddenly hyper aware of my body and his. He smells of Calvin
Klein aftershave, and I have the strong desire to bury my face in the nook of his
smooth neck and inhale deeply. I could live there for hours.

“You smell delicious.” Luc whispers to me, his mouth just
inches from my ear.

A tingle of excitement rushes up my spine.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.” I whisper
back.

He gives me a strange look.

Conversations carry on around us, yet neither Luc nor I take
part in them. We’re both silent, and anyone who looks at us would just assume
we're listening to the other people at the table. But I know that neither Luc
nor I are listening to anything being said.

The air is charged around us, the sexual tension between us
is thick and my heart is beating so hard that I think I might faint. All I can
think about is Luc’s body, so close to mine, and the uncontrollable desire emanating
from my own body. I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out and
touching him. I literally have to clench my hands together to keep myself from rubbing
along his thigh.

Out of the blue Ava begins to talk to me and I take on the
welcome distraction, chatting about the holidays in Nashville. I can feel Luc's
intensity as he listens to me talk about home. Luc knows next to nothing about
me, and I wonder if he even has any idea who my parents are.

I'm always nervous telling people about my parents. It’s not
that I'm ashamed of my parents; I love them very much and I'm fiercely proud of
them. But everyone reacts differently to celebrity and some view me differently
after they realize I am the daughter of two of the biggest stars in the country
music industry. I'd rather keep people in the dark. I like it that way. It
makes me feel more relatable.

Even after twenty-plus years, my parents are still
incredibly successful and putting out albums every year. They don’t do it for
the money; they do it because they absolutely love making music and can't
imagine ever stopping.

“So what do your parents do?” Ava asks inevitably.

“Oh, you know,” I say, waving my hand dismissively, “they’re
into music.”